


naked hearts

by sanguinedawns



Category: Naruto
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, M/M, lots of feelings, no plot tbh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-19
Updated: 2019-08-19
Packaged: 2020-09-07 07:31:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,555
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20305753
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sanguinedawns/pseuds/sanguinedawns
Summary: It’s under the shimmering lanterns, in a stranger village, Naruto steals glances of his companion. Sasuke’s hair is loosely tied by a red ribbon that Anzu gave to him. The persistent bangs still falling out of the knot and framing his face. The deep blue yukata he wears is vibrant despite being simple. He’s devasting.





	naked hearts

**Author's Note:**

  * For [moonwatcher](https://archiveofourown.org/users/moonwatcher/gifts).

> omg hi hello. this is for k. unbeta'd and a shit ton of feelings. we were yelling abt sns at 4 am once and like........we love them. could u imagine a reality they got to put themselves back together? anyway not much more to say except this is corny lol.

Hyūga Hiashi’s house stands on the largest property owned by a singular clan member; wooden carpentry laid across his floors with high ceilings held up by polished beams. The koi pond stretches the length of the front yard that opens to the living room, and there is a whole separate backyard for training and clan meetings. The man sits behind the kotatsu on stacked cushions, his back straight like a rod, eyes wide and focused. Naruto sits opposite to him with legs folded under his bottom, a tray of teapot and cups in front of him—he doesn’t even like tea but it’s basic etiquette to offer some to a visiting guest, so he poured himself a cup.

The man speaks with clarity, words pronounced perfectly, no sloppy verbal tics, “I’m guessing you’re aware why we’ve requested of you?”

Hyūga clan’s highly coveted technique permits them to view the finest of chakra nerves flowing through an opponent’s body, their Kekkei Genkai—a bloodline limit that’s an anomaly in the DNA allowing the inheritor to practice unique techniques—the Byakugan is a Dōjutsu that gives a 360 degree diameter field of vision, with one blind spot at the back of the neck above the first thoracic vertebra. In summary, the heightened perception of the user lets the wielder pick up on the smallest of movements, nervous ticks, the slightest slouch of the shoulder or in Naruto’s case his rapidly sweating palms.

Brushing his hands down the fabric of his crisp pants, he shakes his head in confusion. Sakura told him that he can’t show up to the Hyūga mansion in his tattered jumpsuit that he’s stubbornly attached to. So, he’d pulled out the nicest pair of pants he had and a plain white collared shirt and showed up to the other’s door.

“To my understanding, you’ve been seeing my daughter for the past eleven months, almost a year if we’re to count when you two started talking,” he only stops to take a sip of his jasmine tea, the aroma wafting through the room sticking to the walls. Nimble fingers press into the china of the teacup, he breathes, “So, Uzumaki Naruto when do you plan to ask my daughter’s hand in marriage?”

When an electric board that has a low-resistant conductor is made to have a high current pass through the board short circuits, inevitably damaging it. Similarly, the words stump Naruto in his spot, blinking in puzzlement, he asks, “Excuse me?”

The cloying scent of the tea leaves him heavy, but the other remains unfazed carrying forward, “Marrying into the Hyūga family isn’t just tying the knot, it comes with a weight of responsibility that not many can shoulder especially marrying the future head of the clan, my daughter.”

That’s a funny thing to say because as far as Naruto’s aware Hiashi’s conduct with his own children is distant, cold and unforgiving—not until recently he hadn’t even allowed Hinata to sit in the clan meetings. To humor, the old man, Naruto listens to his vaunting of the Hyūga name. He explains, “If you were to have kids, they’re Hyūga first—everything else second—and I can understand you choosing to keep your surname, but the children will be trained under the clan’s tradition.”

Naruto is twenty years old. Just last week he learned to separate the whites from his colors before doing laundry. Children are a far-fetched dream, if at all, but his lips purse in quiet and he nods. Because that’s what Sakura would do and he’s not here to pick a fight.

A transient thought says _do you even want to raise a child behind these bloodied walls?_

“Hinata has chosen you, the village has deemed you their hero and you singlehandedly ended a war and that’s admirable,” the compliments are coated in an underlying sneer, and Naruto has always been good at knowing how people see him—Hyūga Hiashi thinks he got lucky; it’s chance that helped him become who he is because at the end of the day he is the village Jinchūriki draped in medals. A decorated trophy—a volatile trophy.

Fleetingly Naruto remembers this is the same man who offered the blood of his own brother with little thought because the value of human life isn’t built on what they’ve achieved or how hard they’ve worked, but in what they’re born into. You can’t shed away the identity attached to you right at birth—for Hizashi it was being a branch member and for Naruto, it’s his sealed fate as the Jinchūriki.

In the next hour or so, Hiashi transcribes to him every Hyūga ceremony or tradition that leads up to a wedding and then what entails being part of the clan. Towards the end of his speech he’s segued into the Hyūga’s political influence and how they’ve played an essential role in keeping the village economy stable etc. It’s when he talks about Hinata that Naruto finds any semblance of interest, his fingers unclenching around the fabric of his pants and he rudely interrupts, “Whatever I plan on doing or not is up to me and Hinata, I don’t think it has anything to do with you.”

There is a vein on the right temple of Hiashi’s head that visibly twitches at his candor, “Be wary of how you speak, boy. This isn’t the village streets nor Tsunade’s office where you let your tongue run loose and no one questions it. There will be consequences if you don’t learn some manners.”

Naruto narrows his eyes, speaking with equal vitality, “I am here because I care about Hinata. I don’t intend on joining your clan customs or have even thought of marriage—kids and whatnot. So instead of preaching—”

“You’re obligated to listen to me I am Hinata’s father,” but something switches like a lightbulb turning on that Hiashi who’d been previously steadily losing his temper reigns it back in, posture straightening into that statuesque stance. “You’ve got a month to come back here. Your mind made up about your future with my daughter. You’re the most likely candidate for the succeeding Hokage position and this alliance between our family and the village heads would serve well for future clan business.”

They’re trying to secure trust with the village by aligning themselves with Naruto. A couple of months ago, Tsunade had revealed to the general public about the truth behind the Uchiha massacre and the involvement of the council and Hokage. Since then there has been underlying strife between the clans, the common folks, the existing council—the two original members on trial. Will of fire that had been threaded into every villagers’ life is unmooring due to the growing mistrust.

Hyūga Hiashi is fortifying his own place in the village before they’re made to meet the same fate as those who were ruthlessly massacred in the name of the village.

“Are we understood?” He sets down his teacup before Naruto can string together a reply, he says something infinitely jarring, a lot more than everything they’ve talked about earlier, “After all, you love my daughter and her happiness is my priority too.”

Naruto’s throat tightens with a swab of guilt, unrelenting chock-full guilt. This is new; the emotion. He’s used to loneliness thrumming to the beat in his chest, it’s all he’s ever known, probably the first emotion he’d recognized as a child. Alone. He’s alone. There is no one like him, no one to call him theirs and no one to let him call them his. He’s recently gotten used to comfort, friendship, that came along with team 7 and Konoha 11 and Kaka-sensei and Tsunade-baa-chan.

But guilt? He’d never experienced that before, not before _he_ left through the gates of Konoha again and took something—something that quite didn’t belong to him but doesn’t quite belong to Naruto either. He’s felt it since then every waking second and he feels it right now sitting in the ornate Hyūga mansion getting appraised by the man of the house.

Hinata’s lingering touches, her petal-soft lips escape his mind and his heart refuses to call it the word her father so carelessly imposes on them. Naruto’s guilty. He’s dishonest for the first time in his life and he’s standing in front of someone who sees right through it. Feeling naked and exposed, he nods somberly.

//

The Hokage tower looks out to the entirety of Konohagakure. After Pein’s Invasion, it had left the village with a crater-sized hole and they’d built their new foundation within it. A deep-buried part of Naruto is almost glad that the streets that reminded him of bitter memories no longer exist, but so doesn’t the training ground where Team 7 took their bell test nor does the tree where Iruka had held him to his chest. That’s the first time Naruto was held out of care and protection. So, this too was a blessing and a curse. Losing something to gain something.

Konoha’s always warm, but at night the breeze that kisses the open flap of his button-up is cool. Sakura finds him lying on the wood-coated shingled roofing, his shirt buttoned open, hitate chucked to his side and a packet of empty chips crushed under the heel of his foot.

“Tsunade said you’re bringing down the whole town’s mood with your pouting,” she settles beside him. Her hair is tied up in a half-ponytail, her bangs clipped back with one of Ino’s purple clips. They’re living together in those newly furnished apartment complexes—Sakura finally moving out of her parents’ house sometime last year. 

“I’m not pouting.”  


“You’re pouting a little.”

“I’m not,” he grimaces with knitted brows, glaring at his friend. She presses down on the folded skin between his brows until it flattens, “A little bit.”

Naruto huffs turning away from her, “Leave me alone, Sakura-chan.”

“You’ve got the whole village gossiping about your meeting with Hyūga Hiashi and being your best friend, I deserve the right to know what that old man said to have you brooding this intensely.”

“How does everyone even know?” he feebly whispers, tracing the cracks between ridges.

She sighs, lying back on her elbows, “Nowadays they all want to know about you.”  


“I liked it when they didn’t care.”

“Don’t say that,” her voice does that dip thing where you can tell she’s upset, “You deserve to be sought after.”

“Like an emblazoned hero.”

“Naruto,” she gently touches the curve of his shoulder, “What’s going on?”

She’s hardly to blame or to pour out his heart to. He’s kept the door closed for so long he’s forgotten where he put the key to the entrance, so he says weary and bone-tired, “Have you heard from Sasuke?”

Sakura’s hand seizes in its motion. They don’t talk about Sasuke much not because there is residual bitterness, or contempt, or grief, but because that plaguing worry no longer has them wrought. He writes to them every few months and they write back. And that’s how it goes.

She asks a question of her own, “Do you miss him?”

_Like my lungs miss clean filtered air_, he wants to say. But that’s locked too behind some door he’s too coward to open. So, he says simply, “I don’t know.”

The old, dilapidated buildings of the village that stand on the outer corners have construction workers milling about with their conveyer systems setup and quarry tiles stacked on one end. Naruto can see the spearhead of the group stand over a stretched-out blueprint delegating tasks. Inari is somewhere down there with his pick-ax and metal bucket hat flitting through the throng of cinder blocks and heavy timbers.

Everything looks so small from where he’s sitting that it affords him to think maybe that’s why the leaders of the village are able to forget, to disregard the plight of the people who live in the carcass of shaky lumber and metal. Because when you seem larger than life standing above others it’s easy to delude oneself into vain decisions made for the benefit of yourself and yourself only. Maybe it’s Hiashi’s vain desire to cement his importance, his own legacy that allows him to treat his own children callously because maybe he’s just mirroring the institution that the Hokage is built on and Konoha dwells in. Swelling into this egomaniacal bud of self-importance that’s made them so blind to the cost of others—the life mistreated and the love lost.

“He wants me to marry her,” Naruto says with little forewarning. “Hinata that is.”

“And do you want to?” Sakura’s managed to perfect the guise of indifference until necessary to react. She once said girls aren’t afforded the same expanse of emotions as boys because they’re nicked and torn to be weaker for tears that men shed carelessly for comrades and whatnot. But being a woman means holding those tears close to your chest until the well is gaping, inundated to the point of no return. Because insanity is understandable, but a girl mourning? That is a weakness.

Tsunade taught her she can choose to be whoever, show whichever part she saw fit because no one has the right to tell her otherwise.

“I don’t know,” for the second time that night he finds himself repeating. He doesn’t though and he’s not even lying. Hinata makes him happy to be who he’s meant to. It’s just he’s not too sure he’s chosen that part for himself or it’s been donned on him by those around him.

“The purpose of your life isn’t to be the little grinding stone everybody else sharpens themselves against.” Her hand finds the lobe of his ear, she holds it between her forefinger and middle finger, and tells him, “You’re allowed to choose yourself.”

Naruto stills. He already feels like a sharpened knife at this point, hoisted and wielded at command to protect those who desire it. He’s a hero. He just wanted acknowledgment where eyes that lingered on him weren’t out of distaste and contempt. But something kinder. “What do you mean?”  


“If you had to choose between the village and yourself,” she speaks in furtive whispers, a secret too fragile or otherwise it’ll get whisked away, “You choose yourself.”

She understands the urgency behind Hiashi’s words and why he’s insistent on this marriage. Sakura’s stuck around Tsunade long enough to piece together the inside politics between clan heads, the council, and the Hokage.

“Ne, Sakura-chan, advocating for treason?” he chortles turning into the palm of her calloused hand, one that has stitched and cut up so many ninjas he can’t even begin to count. She’s got a misty glimmer in her eyes, the way they soften at his sight and for a stuttering moment, he’s left wondering how long they’ve been hurt.

She pinches the bridges of his nose and her laugh is a whistle that skids over the twinkling lights of Konoha’s streets, “Be kind to yourself, idiot.”

The unadulterated affection that’s always attached to her words, even when she’s pulling his ear in reprimand, sticks to him.

When he gets to his apartment, his training pack in one hand and Sakura’s words heavily ringing in his chest, he finds Hinata there. She’s dressed in a loose cotton dress, her hair braided down to her back and her wrists adorned with bangles. From what he remembers, she had told him that she’d gone out to dinner to the fancy new BBQ place with Team 8 today. They’re all so busy with their respective jobs that they make sure to congregate once a month and have dinner.

Team seven is unlike others, they eat lunch together by the training grounds every other Sunday but meet at Iruka and Kakashi’s for Friday morning breakfast every week. It’s a tradition in the oddest sense because they’re not even complete—not really, but it’s nice.

“Hey,” he’s breathless and she’s beautiful. She smiles at him, albeit nervous, and says, “How was your day?”  


Terrible. “Good. And yours?”

Lies are easy around Hinata. She lets him be the make-belief self that he wishes he could be, and what the village expects him to be.

She reaches for his hand; he lets himself be drawn and they share a kiss under the awning outside of his apartment. Hinata is always shy, even in her touches she’s hesitant, so it’s nice that she initiated this. She kisses him solidly, but something seems misplaced as if she’s trying to anchor him to herself. Her pillowy lips part allowing him to slip in his tongue and Naruto’s reaching behind to twist the knob of his apartment, but then a thought fizzles his movements.

_After all, you love my daughter._

As if struck, he immediately draws back.

Hinata peers up at him, through hooded eyes and asks, “Is everything okay?”

“Your father told you.”

She ducks, cheeks apple red, “I’ve asked him to wait, a month isn’t feasible I’ve just started teaching at the academy—”

“Hinata,” Naruto murmurs, the courage fissuring through him in rapid waves. “A month is fine.”

Her lavender eyes double in size, her mouth dropping in a round _‘o’_. She asks, tentatively, “So, you’ve decided?”  


“I need to figure something out. Who I am,” he starts, and he can see the lingering fear in her eyes. He doesn’t have the words to chase them away, but he’s got a promise, “I need to figure something out for myself and what I can be outside of Konoha’s four walls.”

“You’re not choosing me,” she’s standing close, but Naruto can see the distance, it’s increasing ceaselessly. Naruto smiles, sad and contained, “this is a huge decision. I need to think it through. I just need some time to myself—to figure out what I want.”

“Okay,” she squeezes his hand and Naruto squeezes back.

\--

The furoshiki tied around the bento box is cherry blossom patterned and sits comfortably in his backpack. Sakura swings her arms back and forth and gazes past the gate opening, the forest tinkling under the night sky, fireflies buzzing.

“You broke up with Hinata?”

Naruto winces, “Yeah.”

“You’re going to see him, huh?” she’s not even asking. She knows. Naruto doesn’t dignify it with a reply. She continues, “Iruka said this time it feels different.”

She’s right it _does_ feel different, but he’s stepping past the gate borders, backpack secured on his shoulders and shrugs. “I just need an answer.”

“And he’ll have it?”

“I don’t know,” Naruto says honestly. “But maybe it’s out there anyway.”

\--

When Naruto was younger, he’d prayed looking upon a shooting star—he’d seen a child in the village streets pointing sloppily at the sky asking his mother what the dipping streak meant. She said something about wishes and dreams. He remembers he’d asked for someone—no name to a person, no relationship to the being, just _a_ person. He’d gone home with a bud of excitement sprouted in his chest, small and pitiful, turning the handle to his door with hastened steps. Marching down the halls to his main living he’d wished, hoped, prayed for someone—empty, like always. His apartment was always empty, and it was that day too. The wish was an innocent dream.

The only sound that filled the room was of his own two feet, light-footed and trembling. If he was any wiser, he would have nipped the bud then, but instead, he let it blossom at least until someone was ready to pluck it to keep—to say: _I’m here_.

An older man, closer to the age the Third had been when he’d passed away, looked at him wryly. His speech was harsher resembling that of Gaara’s when he spoke informally, words loosened with the effects of Sake and tiredness that had seeped into his skin and bones. Shifting the bucket of water hanging off the wooden baton he’s holding, he asks, “And why should I help you?”

Naruto rubs the back of his neck, the sweat there sticking to the pads of his fingers—it’s always scathingly arid in the Land of Wind—and answers, “I’m looking for a friend. Something tells me he passed through this town?”

The little town of Gero wasn’t under the Kazekage’s supervision as they’re separated due to sitting on the border of two countries. Most nations have their populations congregated near the larger cities that have the Kages as figureheads. Otherwise, the smaller towns are left to fend for themselves, the Daimyō not investing their resources for their benefit. Such is fate, to be born on the wrong side of the region.

Naruto sees it in the scruffy clothes the old man wore, the folded skin of his labored hands that held the baton like a beam to balance the two pails of water on the mountain of his back. He sees it in the children running amok in the dirty streets, their feet bare touching the earth sound and in the way, their garments are threadbare and stitched over and over. His favorite jumper whets the same cross-stitch as theirs that he had taught himself after pricking his fingers repeatedly at the age of ten. He’d torn it down the line of his left leg and didn’t have the money to buy a new pair. So, he’d scrounged up the feeble change he had and bought a needle and spindle of thread. Sitting on the floor with his legs crossed and back pressed to the frame of his bed, he’d nicked his thumb twice and forefinger five times. By the time the sun had set he’d effectively patched up his jumpsuit.

Finally, giving in a little the man introduces himself as Katashi, clicking his tongue in thought, “We don’t get many visitors but there was a group of kids about your age who went through Gero a little over a month ago.”  


Group. That confirms Naruto’s suspicion of his friend not being alone.

After setting down the buckets, he cracks his back and stretches his gangly limbs, the gruff of his tone caustic, “We don’t like nosy visitors it’s a rarity that they’re here just to rest because they always want something—our children, our curse, our meager reserves.”

_Curse_, Naruto bites the inside of his gum. They’ve got a Kekkei Genkai. They’re not ninjas though which makes it even more dangerous. But then his mouth is stretching in a semblance of a smile—not fully but almost there—and he speaks, “There was a girl with bright fire hair, she spoke fast and precisely, smart. Another boy with sharp teeth that made him seem more menacing than he was, to be honest. The bigger one was quiet he kept to himself, but the town animals flocked to him—it was sweet. They had another boy with them with mismatched eyes.”

Like someone yanked a cord in his chest, Naruto fumbles forward to know, “He’s got bangs? Dark eyes and features?”

The man lit up in recognition, snapping his fingers in Naruto’s face, “Yes! Intelligent! Powerful. He helped us with the traffickers that had been coasting the area.”

Naruto’s face unfurled into a grimace, “Traffickers?”

“The children,” the man speaks in a calculated hesitance, “They can turn skin to sand.”

That’s an unheard Kekkei Genkai, but Naruto is sure it’s not quite the literal transformation of skin to sand, however, seeing as this isn’t a shinobi village these people don’t have much else to describe the gift. Unexpectedly the man chuckles, “The one with the eyes. He’s good with kids. Quite funny, but he taught them how to defend themselves if someone were to grab them. His group is looking into the next town over; they’ve already had a number of incidents so.”

Belatedly he adds, “They helped us with creating a passage to the stream.” He points towards the mountain up North, that’s closer to the Land of Fire terrain. “There is a river that flows from one of the larger mountains and we’ve been trying to create a split stream so we can get some of the freshwater.”

Then he turns to the crops near the foot end of the village, “You see that land?”

Naruto nods.

“The stream would open right near the rice fields, flooding them to start the crop. It would save us tons of water that we waste during the farming season. But we didn’t have enough manpower or an efficient way to create the creek. So, when these kids showed up—oh boy do you know that big guy can lift the weight of an elephant on one hand? Crazy he’s a child.”

The man walks back a little towards the well from which he’d drawn his own water, “the pointy teeth one got the first wave of water flowing and the redhead she taught the working kids how to use chakra to break rocks.”

The stream is now steadily flowing into a man-made lake and Naruto physically flinches at the way his ribs inflate, piercing his skin to break. Before his mind can piece together why, Katashi’s southern lilt speaks for him, “That boy—with the eyes, right? He’s got a good head on his shoulder.”

Naruto follows in the direction Katashi had pointed.

//

Which one of them is first to notice? He doesn’t quite know.

It’s been four days since he left Konoha and one since his stop at Katashi’s town. Before entering the new village, Naruto had decided to take a detour towards the freshwater creek to clean himself up and replenish. Near the rocky terrain that trailed down to the creek, he’d first noticed the palpable flare of chakra. But he was getting hungry and tired and he smelled god awful, so he ignored it—put it at the back of his mind like he has been doing for the past two years. Two whole years of feeling a whole other person in his own.

Hagaromo had spoken to him of the history and the origin and the _pain_. But he’d been wrong where others thought of him right. Naruto didn’t need some old deity telling him of bonds that never existed—he spoke of his timeless prophecy and Naruto’s memory had bitterly remembered of vacant hallways and silent birthdays. There might be a history that had written him as a hero for some fate he’s meant to live out. But that’s the thing—in Konoha, in the eyes of the village and Hinata’s love—he’s that written dream. That’s not him.

But with everything wrong, there was only one right and that was what his own chakra had chosen to sing to. Like the sun chasing to catch a glimpse of the moon’s existence, Naruto too was helplessly anchored to the single focal point of his life—to the bridge Tazuna built in his name, to the needles Haku used to pierce skin and to the image which had the cage of his foreboding beast broken.

The forest canopy opens prettily to a free-flowing water stream, buttery sunlight filtering in casting leaf-like shadows on the jagged rocks that sit beside the riverbed. Peering through the tall shrubbery Naruto sees him, hair now slightly shorter—_barely_ that only he’d be able to tell the difference. _Why? _Because he’s always looking. Watching. The slimmest of movements of the planes of his broad shoulders, or the way the draft of wind picks up his hair, carefully, tenderly. Funny how nature is lawless, but right now, beyond the foliage that he stands behind, even the wind gracefully embraces him.

It’s been 2 years, 5 months and a terrible some days since Naruto’s seen him.

Sasuke turns to him with a hint of amusement in his eyes, “It’s been years and you still can’t hide. You’re an awful ninja, _usuratonkachi_.”

He is. An _awful_, awful, ninja.

//

Naruto tosses his pack on the ground unzipping the shirt to his jumpsuit while Karin eyes him skeptically, “Not that we’re opposed to guests or anything, but why did Konoha sent their best guard dog to seek us out?”

The fishnet of his undershirt lets the summer breeze kiss the pores of his exposed skin. He squats down and takes out a plastic bag with a bar of soap and a tiny bottle of translucent liquid and answers with knitted brows, “No one sent me I came by myself.”

Peering up through his golden eyelashes he gives the redhead a challenging glare, “Do you have an issue with that?” Then he tosses the same look between the other two men and Suigetsu grins, “I’ve always liked you.”

Sasuke audibly sighs jerking Naruto’s attention to him, “Everything okay, right?”

It’s at the tip of his tongue to ask _do I need a reason to come see you?_

But that’s hypocritical because he did after all come here searching for an answer hoping Sasuke could tell him—show him what this hollowness inside his chest is from. Instead, he tears his eyes away because even looking at Sasuke too long burgeons a buried ache he’d long forgotten of. To understand what he wants has always been the hardest part of being himself. Watching a friend and teeming with colors of emotions he can’t name is terrifying as much mortifying—to think it’s not reciprocated, to think he’s strange to dive into this well all by himself.

Gripping the zip to his backpack he chews out evenly, “I just needed to get out of Konoha—clear my head for a bit. Take time for myself.”

Jūgo speaks for the first time, since his arrival, sitting on a rounded rock, “So you came to Sasuke?”

Naruto’s throat closes up out of embarrassment. Jūgo didn’t even speak with disdain, he was merely questioning, but being so easily readable makes him feel vulnerable. He wants to run away and hide until people stop looking. The other boy must’ve sensed his distress because he carries on, calm as the babbling brook that flows behind them, “I get it. The village started feeling like a cage, right?”

Naruto nods. That’s when Sasuke chooses to flick his ear, Naruto grumbles gazing up and he’s looking elsewhere, “Get up and shower. You stink. We’re expected at the next village.”

Ōwani occupies the hilly southern border between the Land of Fire and Wind. The town is densely populated and is cooler than the other town Naruto had been in, the rolling hills leading to high snow-capped mountains, a cold humidity permeating the air. Suigetsu smacks his mouth wide open and whines, “I’m sweating through my clothes but am also cold what the fuck is this nonsense?”

Karin bundles under a tawny shawl, hands bringing up a compass that doubles as a thermometer, “It’s about 20 degrees here. In the middle of the summer.”

Sasuke’s the only one unbothered by the sudden gust of chill and Naruto reckons it’s due to his affinity to fire—he’s always known the other boy to run a touch too warm. Pointing along the brick houses that fringe towards the outside of the main market, Sasuke alerts them, “the house with the auburn roof is where the village leader has requested to meet us.”

Suigetsu snickers side-stepping Naruto, and wiggles his eyebrows mischievously, “Pucker up pretty boy we’re going to get a place to stay tonight.”  
  
Naruto doesn’t quite follow what the sharp-teethed boy means until they arrive at the villa-esque house. This village is clearly wealthier than the other one seeing as the person in charge has a petite _tsuboniwa_ right at the entrance.

An older woman with waist-length brown hair with strands that are clipped in loops in the shape of a coronet around her head steps outside; her summery orange Yukata had cosmos stamped on the fabric and the belt that tied the garb around her waist was a deep-yellow. The crow’s feet around her eyes thinned out when she smiled at them, her voice like honey, “You must be the kids here to help us! Old man Katashi had good things to say about you.”

In the back, Karin mumbles under her breath, “Oh, the village head is a woman.”

It was Jūgo in measured cadence, “We’ve heard about the abduction of kids from your village.”

“Sad isn’t it?” Naruto notices the way she speaks in pity like she’s bothered only for show. Something about this woman isn’t right. But for the moment he staggers behind the rest, quiet and watchful—an uncharacteristic decision on his part. She speaks again mustering an ounce of empathy, “All summer young ones have gone missing by the river that runs down the eastern side of the town. We’ve employed our best men to find the cause, but it wasn’t until a word from Katashi that we figured out it was the doing of missing-nin who dabble in trafficking.”

“You mean to say you didn’t notice missing children in your own village?” Sasuke’s voice carried affliction. A rarity because he’s generally partial to monosyllabic replies or indifference. But right now, Naruto can taste the brewing undercurrent of anger coursing through him because it sang to his own chakra, like a piece of music drawing him in. His hand with a mind of its own went to grab the bone of his elbow, steadying Sasuke to the ground and like a lit candle pinched to extinguish Sasuke too settled. His weight shifting to the crook of Naruto’s arm.

The woman controls her own expression simply replying, “We merely thought it was a case of runaways.”

_Children don’t run until driven out_; Naruto dolorously reflects.

In the matter of a few hours, Naruto discovers why Sasuke sticks to Taka like a glued puzzle piece. Suigetsu whistles over the charged silence and wonders, “Don’t sweat it, lady, we’ll look into it. For the time being, can we get a place to stay?”

Karin hoists up a pouch that’s probably full of money, “Would you like us to pay?”  


Danuja, as she had introduced herself, turns her nose at the money and declares, “You can stay at the guest house. There are plenty of rooms, a separate bathroom, and a kitchen.”

She pauses to flick her wrist and a young boy and girl come running down the sundeck of her house, “These two will show you to your place. Please be comfortable and if you need anything tell them.”

Once they’re inside the polished wooden walls of the guest house, Suigetsu arches his back, “What crawled up her ass?”

Unasked Naruto answers, “Something is weird about that old lady.”

Sasuke tinkers with the knob of the main room, then the other two and says, “Anyone who’s mindless enough to not notice children getting abducted has something wrong with them.”

“Whatever at least we got a bed to sleep in. I call this room!” Suigetsu hollers running towards the room that’s farthest from the main entrance. Jūgo and Karin sigh in unison. The white-haired boy peeks his head out of his newly chosen accommodation and asks, “Who’s Naruto bunking with?”

Cheeks burning, Naruto wills his eyes to stay fixed on the dent in the wall next to the kitchen—desperate to not meet Sasuke’s eyes—he replies casually, “I can take the couch.”  


“There is no couch,” Karin not so helpfully points. The living room is sparsely furnished.

Sasuke unties his hair treading towards the room that has the largest window of the three and announces, “Naruto and I can share this bedroom. For now, we can eat and sleep. Tomorrow we’ll look into what is going on with this ring of children disappearing.”

Unbeknownst to Karin’s titters, Naruto trails after Sasuke. Once the house settles in quiet, Sasuke and Naruto change out of their clothes into cotton yukatas. Naruto’s squatting in front of his pack searching for something when Sasuke breaks the bubble around them, “Why are you really here, Naruto?”

Pausing in his actions, Naruto sighs.

//

Sasuke is fond of the night time. Not because of some distant memory or some deep resonance to the darkness. It’s the quiet that lulls his whirring mind. Nighttime comes with the hope of slumber, the possibility of a quiet the day doesn’t really offer, and the moon is kind enough to let him gaze straight at it, unlike the sun that’s so bright, furiously burning away that just a glance is painful.

Naruto is a little like that sun.

A tinge too effervescent that at times he’s afraid if he got too close it’ll singe the tips of his fingers, the curl of his lashes or the thick arteries entangled in his chest. Even now where the town is washed by the tranquility of the nighttime Naruto’s radiant. Body scrubbed clean after his shower, his cheeks a healthy flush of red, his sunflower hair matted down to stick to his forehead. Naruto’s always a bit _too_ radiant.

“Hyūga Hiashi gave me something of an ultimatum,” he explains sitting on the bed with legs crossed while Sasuke’s sitting next to him, legs spread out and feet tucked under the comforter.

“For?”

“Marrying his daughter.”

“Oh.” Because _oh_ what else can Sasuke say? Except he’s shocked that Naruto refers to Hinata so distantly, so detached.

He watches the younger boy pick at the threads sticking out of the sheets, struggling to put together his thoughts because although many have been on the receiving end of Naruto’s endless bravado and unfailing hopefulness, very rarely people get to see this: the insecurity, the uncertainty, the hurt.

Choosing his words cautiously, Sasuke advises, “Hinata’s loved you for a while now.”

“I know.”

“This would make her very happy.”

“I know.”  


“She’ll be kind to you.”  


“I _know_,” Naruto glances up glaring, eyes burning a fire, “I know all this.”

“Then what do you not know?” Sasuke asks candidly, “What are you asking?”

There is so much blood in Sasuke’s mouth from the past, from his present and most likely in his future. Chock-full of blood that’s still fresh. Even years after he can smell the iron in the air and wonders why his friend thought he’d have answers when he can’t even find his own.

“So, you don’t feel it?” Naruto stubbornly charges like a bull with its horns sharpened.

Sasuke’s never one to turn away from a challenge, “Why should it matter if I do?”

Naruto’s fist clench and this is where they would have fought, but they've grown now, they’re not _supposed_ to throw punches just because they can’t articulate how they feel. It’s just no one ever told them otherwise nor taught them how so they’re stuck with this; battered knuckles connecting skin in harsh attacks.

Sasuke scrubs a hand over his face, weary, “I’m going to sleep.”

Silence has never been Naruto’s friend. Sasuke knows this. He faces the wall of the bare guest room, not even curtains hanging over the large window, and Naruto finally relents, “They wanted to erect a statue of me in the new central market of Konoha.” The laugh that follows after is hollow, stained with resentment, “A statue to immortalize me. To claim me as _their_ great hero.”

_Don’t they have the Hokage mountain for that?_ Sasuke thinks. Naruto speaks, “They do that for Hokage’s. Carve their faces into that giant fucking rock to honor their sacrifice—a medal—and some don’t even deserve it.”

“My father died in the name of a village that was meant to protect me by the hands of his own student,” Naruto’s chakra flares at the memory, words coming out jagged and unkempt. “Hinata says she’s enamored by my bravery. My kindness. You know what she doesn’t know?”

“What?”

“That I wish they were dead.”

Sasuke smiles, turning over to face his friend, “Because it hurts that much? That they’ve forgotten.”

Naruto nods, “Because it hurts so much.” After a moment he says, the gentle hum of the ceiling fan drowning under the weight of his voice, “Iruka sensei said that sometimes we can love someone so much and still not see what we think is best for them isn’t what they need.”

“Do you agree?”

Instead of answering Sasuke, Naruto veers towards him, his knobby knee digging into Sasuke’s stomach, “Is that what I did? Was I blind to what you needed?”

Surprise colors Sasuke that he doesn’t even get the chance to school his face and as always Naruto’s quick to read him, eyes saddening, “I took it away from you. The choice.”

Sasuke purses his lips, replying evenly, “I chose this. You didn’t make me do anything.”

“The council members are on trial for a crime they _did_ commit. It’s being judged whether they should serve punishment and all I can think of is why they get this choice when you were—”

Before he can finish Sasuke interrupts, “The village knows?”

“Yeah.”

It was a little after the war when Naruto addressed the issue with Tsunade. Burying the old hatch and moving on didn’t settle well with him when they received a delegate from Iwagakure about the military expansion. War doesn’t end indefinitely just on the off-chance of a common enemy and now that Konoha had the only Jinchūriki it made them a threat as much an ally. It was then Naruto realized they can truly never move on, power struggles will infinitely exist, and someone will be wrongly persecuted—not that he wasn’t aware before, but the rosy-colored peacetime was an illusion and like all illusions, it shattered under the weight of reality. 

Shoulders now slackened, Naruto says regretfully, “I’m sorry.”

“What for?” Sasuke reaches out to tap his knee right where it’s pressed to his stomach, “Naruto you didn’t hurt me in any capacity. In fact, it was quite opposite. If anyone should be apologizing it should be me.”

Undeterred, Naruto resumes, “Should’ve let you—”

“What? Exact my murder campaign?” Sasuke raises a brow.

Naruto pouts, “I don’t think you would’ve killed kids.”

“Hm,” Sasuke breathes through his nose, “You’ve got misplaced faith in me.”

They both spill into quiet laughter, Naruto’s fingers hovering close to Sasuke’s. Catching his breath, Sasuke continues, “We were young and made mistakes. The only thing we can do is move on and do better.”

Sasuke knows being seven and his whole world collapsing. Being twelve and finding camaraderie, being thirteen and finding the warmth of friendship, being thirteen and tearing that same friendship as ripping his own arm off. He knows being sixteen standing at the foot of his brother’s cold body, mouth full of blood and heart vacant. Being seventeen and angry, so _so_ angry that his nails could dig into metal plates and leave imprints. Seventeen and confused. And finally, seventeen and coming home to familiar warmth—to unwavering support, unflinching kindness—and somewhere along the way—

Sasuke remembers being seventeen standing at the gates of a forgotten home, ready to finally move away and start anew and realizing something all at once. A brewing at his core, bubbling, trembling to speak.

Jokingly Naruto surmises, “Shouldn’t have let you go.”

_Which time?_ Sasuke doesn’t ask because his tongue is soaring away, “Then don’t.”

//

The smarmy town with its wicked leader expels bad energy in tenfold in the morning. It’s not so much as the villagers but more watchful eyes that prick at the back of his neck making him wary. Someone was following them.

Jūgo’s baritone rings questioningly, “Do you guys sense it too?”

Karin hums, biting into her green apple, “Four on your left, three in the back and two on the rooftop.”

Naruto shifts towards Suigetsu frowning, “Should we try to lose them?”

“No,” Sasuke peers at a set of children kicking a ball into the streets, chasing after their mothers, “Let’s wait it out.”

They enquire the families of information that have reported missing children and come at a dead end. It’s not until a mother living in a shabby shed, far from the main residence area, that they find some clues.

She’s got eyebags and hair braided, “Lady Danuja insisted they were runaways but.” The chakra of the pursuer’s flickers and Sasuke’s hand instinctively goes to the hilt of his sword, “Right before Anzu disappeared.”

Tactlessly Naruto asks, “What’s her Kekkei Genkai?”

Karin pinches him.

The older woman, Hitomi, explains, “Our village doesn’t have shinobi—we don’t train our children to—” she looks between them guiltily so Sasuke completes her thoughts for her.

“You don’t train mercenaries—to kill.”

“Yes, but her father isn’t from this village you see. He was a traveler and we fell in love,” she smiles at that. “Anzu was born and every day I dreaded the eventual gift of hers. The same gift that took her fathers’ life. But, alas, she discovered a few months ago and then at the start of summer she was out with friends and never came home.”

Finding a trail is hard if you’re not even trying to look. But their team consists of an expert sensory type that probably has a higher IQ than anyone Naruto’s ever interacted with. They quickly find the perpetrator but also get ambushed all the same—the chakra of the people trailing them from earlier revealing themselves.

Even if they were directionally handicapped in locating the base, the henchmen of Lady Danuja—or whoever is doing that connoisseur Henge—give away the location. They’re tied at the waist by rope, a man about as tall as Kakashi bragging, “You kids think you’d spoil our plan now? After we’ve gone through this elaborate ruse to fool the village?”

Sasuke taps the back his hand with his finger. Naruto shifts until his kunai is pressed to the jut of his hipbone, the man babbling away unaware. Realistically he could just snap the rope with sheer strength but he’s not here to draw attention nor kill mere lackeys. So, he lets the man sputter away.

“You orchestrated this whole kidnapping?” Karin asks, snippy.

The man laughs in her face, “Nah, it’s our boss. He’s the guy collecting these special kids in exchange for a reward.”  


“Why is the village head involved?” Suigetsu sputters out impatiently, “What is she gaining from this?”

They all know it’s a Henge because earlier when they’d visited another village elder, he’d said Madam Danuja was an expert archer, but last night Naruto had seen her throw a kunai at her assistant. Her aim was shit. A Henge expert with a shitty aim. A ninja that can’t fight but can deceive.

“The old lady is locked away at our base you foolish twit, that guy—”

“Hiroshi!”

“They’re dying here anyway who cares if they know about the cave?” the older man insists, unfortunately. Sasuke slices the rope and frees them.

Defeating the band of losers barely makes them break a sweat. Finding the cave is easier once Sasuke summons Garuda to scout the area. That’s where they find the real village head and children being held captive, their chakra concealed.

//

Getting rid of the copy Lady is easy enough. Hitomi kisses the apples of Naruto’s cheeks and Sasuke watches until she’s moving over and hugging him teary-eyed, thank you’s spilling like a fountain.

The real lady Danuja speaks over the grateful villagers, “We’re indebted to you and not sure how to repay.”

Naruto proposes food, but Karin’s thwacking him to ask, “The guy in charge of the kidnapping he has a boss. If you could provide us the coordinates of all nearby villages that’d be great.”

She furrows her brows, confused, “You don’t want anything in return? Money? Gifts?”

It’s Jūgo who politely requests, “Maybe a few more nights to stay here.”

Nodding in understanding and gratitude, she speaks with innate eloquence, “You can spend as long as you want at the guest house. Please also join the village in celebrating our summer festival. Our children are precious to us and your kindness is appreciated.”

Sasuke turns away, not a fan of people’s overwhelming gratitude when Naruto joins him, “What’s wrong?”

“She’s thanking us so much when she shouldn’t have been in the position in the first place.”

Naruto’s eyes reflect thoughtfulness, his shoulders brush Sasuke’s sending a buzz down his skin, “Yeah, but also, you helped them. You deserve the praise.”

“I don’t need it.”

He laughs, unabashed and _so_ unequivocally himself that Sasuke’s chest tremors, “I know. It’s what best about you.”

“My indifference to gratitude?”

Naruto smiles that knowing smile, like he’s holding a secret, clicking his tongue, “Your ignorance to your selflessness.”

Sasuke’s chest shakes a forgotten ache, a simple longing.

//

Naruto can’t exactly pinpoint when he started feeling this. Human beings are whole when they’re born and then somewhere along the way they get chipped away by the people in their lives, chiseled to fit others to their shape. So, you’re not quite half, but you’re not always full either. At least, that’s what Naruto’s come to understand. Then you meet someone, a person who doesn’t hammer down on you to tear a piece, but they kinda just stay, are a little salve that’s not there to mend you but instead remind you. _You’re whole_. _You’re you_. And they’ve chosen to accept all that you have to offer.

Growing up he didn’t get to part with pieces of himself cause no one offered a hand and then when they came he gave away in handfuls, generously yielding parts until recognizing who he was got a smudge too blurry. But one hand didn’t ask for a piece instead offered a shoulder, an anchor and Naruto got tied ever since. Like a boat rocking in the budding storm coming to a standstill, he too found that permanence.

Fleeting, however, it was.

For the first time, he understood he didn’t have to break apart for someone else to be a person of his own. Sasuke’s hand even in its absence lingered like an ever-burning fire, vivid and incandescent.

It’s under the shimmering lanterns, in a stranger village, Naruto steals glances of his companion. Sasuke’s hair is loosely tied by a red ribbon that Anzu gave to him. The persistent bangs still falling out of the knot and framing his face. the deep blue yukata he wears is vibrant despite being simple. He’s devasting.

In a plaintive manner, he says, “the last festival I attended was with my mother. They set out these game stalls and I think I emptied her coin purse dragging her by the wrist to each station.”

The memory has him smiling. Naruto can’t help but mirror it.

Crinkling his nose, he apologizes, “I got reminded by the lanterns.”

_I wanna know everything about you_ but would asking that be too much? He’s not too sure. Their boundaries, if any, begin somewhere far. Naruto is ready to run that distance until there is no space left. Until it’s him and Sasuke and maybe everyone a world away.

Looking away he tries to catch his breath, “did you win any games?”

Sasuke snorts, “I don’t lose, usratonkachi.”

Naruto elbows him lightly, “wanna see who scoops the most goldfish?”

Childishly they race to the woman manning the stall, coughing up spare change and squatting in front of the tiny pool of water with orange-gold critters swimming away. Sasuke’s nimbler, holding the poi at an angle so it doesn’t tear meanwhile Naruto goes through three films of washi paper. In the end, the older boy wins brandishing his newly won goldfish in naruto’s face.

Naruto pouts, disappointed. “you clearly cheated!”

“Being better than you isn’t cheating.”

Knocking his shoulders into Sasuke, Naruto treads closer to the creek where people are gathering for the fireworks. The throng of people pushes them closer and with passing bravery he makes a quick decision.

Sasuke’s wrist in his hand fits fine, but when he slides down to hold his hand it’s like the whole world sets right. The something that Sasuke took seems close, a whisper away. The feeling unroots—as it always does—enveloping them. Sasuke squeezes his hand and the fireworks go off.

Later they’re walking back to the guest house, hands to themselves that Naruto interrupts the silence, “the month comes to an end on Tuesday.”

“So, it does.”

Naruto’s heart climbs to his throat and he bares it one last time. A last-ditch effort. A naked heart.

“Sasuke?”

“Yeah.”

“What is a friend to you?”

“You.”

Naruto kicks at the rubble, and speaks again, “what’s more to you?”

Sasuke speaks certainly, “you.”

How can the sun burn even brighter? it chances a glance at the moon. And yearns vividly.

//

A little later they’re lying on the springy mattress of the guest-room, washed and cleaned from the day’s activities. The ceiling fan turns counterclockwise above their heads inducing a buzzing sound, Naruto raises his hand pretending to reach it and asks, “so what does this mean?”

Sasuke’s staring at the skip trowel ceiling and blinks, “I’m not too sure.”

For the first time, he’s afraid of not knowing. The veracity of his emotions is overwhelming to the point of crushing which is why he’d always turned a blind eye to them. Now though it’s harder when Naruto easily unmoors layers to dig deeper until they’re connected at the core. 

Naruto drops his hand next to Sasuke, not touching but his heat lingers and Sasuke wonders if two burning fires are meant to meet? Wouldn’t that be utterly destructive? Except Naruto isn’t fire. He’s the wind—ambient, flowing and omnipresent. Kind of like his place in Sasuke’s life where even his absence leaves a hollowed space that refuses to fill, to let something else grow. It’s like Naruto’s stubbornness has transformed into weeds, roots that dig into the caverns of Sasuke’s heart and refuse to uproot. Helplessly he ponders whether his existence is forever tied to this boy. The alternative is an infinity where he can’t be seen by Naruto and that sounds terrifying.

Turning his face to Sasuke’s, Naruto confesses, “can I stay?”

_For now? Forever? _

Unprompted Naruto continues, “Hiashi talked about children. Something about them being Hyūga first everything else second.” Letting out a nasally laugh he croaks, “Imagine my child having half an identity.”

Sasuke can hear the pain in his voice, can see the childhood of isolation as clear as day. As Naruto had said years ago, that he _hurt_, just like that Sasuke can feel it too. He has half a mind to take it all, shoulder everything Naruto's had to weigh on his shoulders with no hesitation. 

“You can’t get that,” Sasuke clarifies then, “with me I mean.”

Naruto’s laughing into him now, nose buried in the wedge of his shoulder, wispy breaths touching his bare skin, “we can defeat gods but can’t have a child?”

It sounds silly when spoken out loud. Gods. Deities. Destinies. Fate. Handed to them unasked.

Humoring the other boy, Sasuke muses with a touch of hope, “I suppose there is always a way.”

“For an Uzumaki-Uchiha?” this time the timber of Naruto’s voice sounds hoarse.

“Who says your name will come first?” Sasuke teases. It’s easy. So uncomplicated with him. It’s just them. It’s always been just them.

Naruto’s finger hesitantly traces the inside of Sasuke’s wrist, and he urges, clamoring an earnest yearn, for the second time since his arrival, “Sasuke, do you feel the same?”

Sasuke’s not one for praying, but every word at the lip of his emotions sounds akin to one meeting the teeth of his vagrant heart. Maybe loving someone is a little like a close kept prayer, earnest and intimate.

Closing the distance, he slips their palms together, the electric in his veins sizzling to the watery contours of Naruto, “that’s all I ever feel with you.”

Pressing his side closer to Sasuke’s, Naruto mumbles into his jugular. As a shinobi they’re taught to never let anyone come this close it’s a compromise of safety. Right now, Naruto could effortlessly slit his throat and Sasuke wouldn’t question twice. It’s a little mad. They’re both a little mad. Sasuke finds comfort in it.

“Then I’ll stay.”

//

They talk until daybreak; the tangerine sunlight pours in abundance over them. Naruto’s hand is under the pillow, resting under his head and his knees knock ever so slightly to Sasuke’s who’s also turned on his side mirroring the other. Shadows cast over Sasuke’s jaw in slants, his inky eyelashes fluttering over his cheeks. The guest house is mute spare the early morning hum of birds and other animals.

The bed creaks as Naruto shifts, hesitant to properly touch the other boy—for a moment he meditates on their innate reluctance to be close, but the thought is cursory.

Sasuke’s utters sleep-laden, “Why now? Why not two years ago?”

It isn’t accusatory or angry, but curious. Naruto replies in kind, shrugging, “It hadn’t set in yet.” After the war, the village had welcomed him with open arms, and it had been gratifying until he realized the duplicity of their appreciation. Konoha had always sought a hero. It didn’t matter who it was, what face they wore, what history they had. Their purpose was to ensure their security and if they did so they were commemorated.

Only when Mizuki had shaken his hand and patted his back had Naruto realized he hated the skin he’d adorn for these people. The same man who’d tried to kill him when he was eleven now held his hand in a grip so tight, thankful.

Naruto heaves a sigh at the memory and closes his eyes, “Sometimes I wish they’d apologize to us.”

Sasuke lets out a derisive snort, “They owe you a lifetime of apologies at this point.” Naruto’s eyes snap open and he says with fervor, “You too.”  


Softening under the shadows cast by the buttery sunlight of dawn, Sasuke smirks—a little as he used to when he was younger—and Naruto’s chest tightens, mind scrambling to capture this perfect memory. Speaking in the same self-assured boldness he’s always possessed, “I’m far above those apologies.”

“Are you now?” Naruto playfully asks, reaching to flick the back of Sasuke’s downturned hand that’s resting on the bed.

Sasuke catches his hand by the wrist, nimbly touching the curve of his thumb with his right hand, the pad where it’s roughest. One by one he plays with each of Naruto’s fingers, tracing the skin until it leaves behind a tingling sensation.

He comments, “you have nice hands.” He’s holding the bandaged fingers now so carefully it could make Naruto cry.

Flippantly Naruto replies, “thanks they’re at good many things.”

“Are they?” Sasuke arches a brow, the grey of his right eye dancing mirthfully amongst the inky black. The purple of his left shimmering.

Cheeks burning, Naruto responds, “you’re a bastard.” He tugs at his hand to push at Sasuke's shoulder, but the hold stays firm. Sasuke’s moved to his forefinger now.

“So, you’ve said.”

Naruto changes topics, “What’s your favorite color?”

He can practically hear the way Sasuke’s chest contracts to produce a hearty chuckle, the muteness around them puncturing due to the deep laugh, “What is this? A genin ice breaker?”

Pouting, Naruto urges, “Oh, come on. You’re my best friend! I need to know these things.”

“Take a wild guess, I’m sure you already know.”

Naruto ponders briefly, “Blue.”

“Wow, you’re so smart,” sarcasm drips into his words and Naruto refutes back, “Oh like you know mine!”

Sasuke lightly squeezes his middle finger now, hand still exploring Naruto’s fingers—it settles a cozy warmth in the well of his chest—and replies, “you wore the same infuriatingly bright orange jumper every day for the two whole years we were on the same team.”

“You’re infuriating,” Naruto jeers.

“And that jumpsuit is _still_ ugly,” Sasuke responds.

Not giving up, Naruto charges on, “What’s your favorite food?”

“Is this necessary?” Sasuke rolls his eyes. His hand still stays secured around the pad of his fingers, now he’s moved on to the ring one. It’s a little like love. Bandaged fingers grasped in Sasuke’s hand.

“Just because you can name mine—”

“You can name mine too.”

Grumbling Naruto acquiesces, “Fine, what do you suggest we do then?”

Sasuke doesn’t answer him, keeps his tiny exploration Naruto’s hand going. Summer is going to end by the time Naruto has to leave which means autumn will come along with its burnt trees and chilly winds. For some reason, Naruto’s already looking forward to the burst of winter. They’ve been splintering away for so long that now when they finally get to mend, to put together the parts that had been stolen, stomped, bruised by others, it’s refreshing.

He chooses his words with fastidious care, “Can we always be this close?”

Whether he’s talking about their physical closeness right now, or just the _idea_, of being close to Sasuke’s heart is lost on him. Right now, all he knows is that with every shift away, Sasuke beckons Naruto tangentially binding him to the other—for now, for tomorrow, for a lifetime.

Funny how the earth’s been around for a million of years and yet Naruto can confidently say the way he feels, what blooms between them is older, rawer and more encompassing anything it would’ve allowed.

Sasuke doesn’t get to answer. Their privacy is interrupted by a knock on the door, Suigetsu’s rough twang filtering in, “Sasuke, we’re heading out for breakfast did you want something?”

Twisting his body to look over his shoulder, Sasuke hollers back, “No it’s fine.”

Naruto squeezes his hand and requests in a whisper, “Tell him to get me ramen.” Sasuke instead places a hand over his mouth, chiding, “It’s 7 AM you’re not finding ramen anywhere.”

Completely appalled Naruto whines behind the hand over his mouth, licking Sasuke’s palm out of spite and snickers when he draws back with a snarl, “I want ramen!”

“Tough shit.”

Naruto goes to punch him in the gut but Sasuke stops his hand with his stump, he uses another to knock him in the head but Sasuke goes back to holding onto his pinky finger. The raven-haired boy turns over again and yells at Suigetsu, “Can you get some vegetables? Carrots, cucumbers, radish—”

Shifting his weight forward Naruto cranes his neck to bite Sasuke’s shoulder, but stops before his teeth can sink in when he hears him say, “Also if that soup stall is open, the one we saw yesterday, can you grab Naruto some?”

It’s the smallest of gestures, remembering what he likes, but Naruto’s limbs melt similar to a lit candle, disarming until all that’s left is his blundering self. The harsh around the edges, worn-in bits of himself he’s carried proudly on his chest since he was younger. Only Sasuke choosing to not only look but understand them.

Suddenly overwhelmed by what happened, Naruto ducks until his lips glide across the corner of Sasuke’s lips, startling the boy into stillness.

Suigetsu speaks again, voice coming muffled through the door, “That’s all?”  


Sasuke croaks out a _yeah_ or maybe it’s just Naruto’s mind imagining the hitch in his words. He’s too busy climbing up the other boy, his fist loosening near Sasuke’s stomach he’s pressing his palm to the side of Sasuke’s neck, another hand still loosely held by a finger. Bravely Naruto arches down and lets his mouth press to the corner of Sasuke’s mouth.

It’s Sasuke who’s turning his head to connect their mouths, slanting the curve of their lips until they’re embraced in chaste pecks. It’s dry, the type of kiss where teeth collide out of clumsiness; it’s not rough, not hurtful. Sasuke’s lips aren’t soft, they’re chapped and dry and Naruto’s never tasted familiarity on his tongue, never known the meaning of finding a home in people until now. This very moment where Sasuke’s hand is gripping to the pinky finger of his left hand, Naruto could be his lifeline and you couldn’t say otherwise.

They only pull apart when the taste is mixed with saltiness, Naruto’s tears splotching Sasuke’s cheeks, the other’s eyes quivering with tears as well. They burst into laughter, Naruto’s body rocking, his voice coming out as high as a whistle, his chest squeezing tight and Sasuke mirroring him to the brim.

Finally, Sasuke finishes mapping his fingers and goes to hold his hand. Understanding is rare among people. They spend eternity to figure out how to mold around another, but no one begs to ask why must they succumb so fully?

If it’s luck then it’s a first if it’s a chance then so be it, but a lingering feeling demands him to say it’s a choice. One they made back in the Land of Waves, or maybe even before then, in stolen glances over the pier, in the visceral want since the academy. He’s always seeking Sasuke’s approval, his eyes on him, unwavering and steady.

No hesitation and with all its vulnerability, he can admit to one thing to himself. His heart is carried under a crackling fire, one so strong it could swallow the world whole and to think the wind embracing it would let it. Would it? Would he?

Naruto decides then: _he would_.

//

Naruto zips up his backpack and hoists it over his shoulder. Suigetsu eyes him with a frown, “Do you have to leave? We’re supposed to follow the lead regarding the children from the other villages?”

Jūgo insists, “Can your trip back to Konoha wait?”

Naruto smiles, a little sad but hopeful, “Don’t worry I’ll be back.”

Sasuke squeezes Jūgo’s shoulder, “He’s got some stuff to care of back in Konoha.”

The month is over. He has an answer for Hiashi.

The sun is high and they’re standing near a forest clearing, at the base of the mountain, that opens to a long-winded road that was created a little after the war, for safer travels of the commoners from Suna. Naruto stomps his foot a little on the ground before Karin’s chatting, “You better get me the list of supplies I asked, blondie, or else I won’t let you stay.”  


He grins, knowingly, “I’ll miss you too, Karin.”  


She flips him the bird and he laughs. Sasuke steps forward and Naruto follows in step, he mutters, “So, I’m leaving.”

“You are,” Sasuke breathes, his hair clipped back by hairpins Anzu had graciously given to them. The purple of his left eye softens at the sight of Naruto and he loves it, being able to see the ripple of his effect on the other because if it was up to the silly beat in his chest it’d demand to be heard out loud, everywhere until the tune was memorized by the perpetrator behind it. It’s only fair if he’s not the only one.

“I’m going to go now…” Naruto tells, a tinge dramatic.

Sasuke nods, “Okay.”  


Little miffed Naruto whines, “Like for a month, maybe three weeks, I’m going. Like going.”

Sasuke blinks, confused. It’d be cute the way his eyes widen a little, but Naruto’s too frustrated at the other’s nonchalance. He expected a dramatic send away not this.

“Okay? I know this. Get going or the sun will set before you even make it out of here, dumbass.”

Naruto huffs, a tad hurt at Sasuke’s casual dismissal and announces, “Alright then, bye, bastard!”

He gets maybe an arm’s length away before Sasuke’s drawing him back for a quick kiss, releasing him and saying slightly breathless, “Okay, now go.”

“One more,” Naruto forgets that the rest of Sasuke’s friends’ are still there when he cups Sasuke’s face in his hands. He pecks his lips. And draws back but his heart gets stuck on a hook, he goes back sinking, “One more.” He kisses Sasuke’s mouth again, lips touching in messy presses, careless and tender, and, “_one more_.”

He draws back the fifth time, and this time it’s Sasuke’s hand slipping around the nape of his neck—they can hear Suigetsu groaning about getting a room, but Naruto’s smiling into this kiss. This time Sasuke’s tongue teases the swell of his bottom lip and breathes warmly into the cavern of his mouth, “_one more_.”

After a couple dozen kisses, Naruto reluctantly pulls back, peppering kisses up Sasuke’s left cheek to the arch of his brow bone, “Okay, okay, I’ll go now.”  


Sasuke nods, and Naruto can see the shift, the tug that tightens when he walks away again. Taking a deep breath, he runs back to Sasuke and kisses him solid, “Wait for me.”

“I will.”  


Konoha is somewhere over the horizon, he starts trekking down the path and stops. The bubble in his chest-bursting and flooding like a summer storm crashing against jagged rocks, a whirlpool of emotions pouring out. He pivots on the heel of his foot, cupping his hands around his mouth to create an echo loud enough to be heard at the base of the mountain where they are and yells, “Sasuke!”

“What?”

The other boy and his friends look back, and he confesses, cheeks burning, throat tingling, “I love you!”

From where he’s standing, he can practically see the roll of Sasuke’s eyes, the other’s tone light and delighted, “I _know_, _usuratonkachi_.”

It echoes back _I love you too_.

Naruto heads back to Konoha one last time to tie loose ends. To settle unfinished business at the place he’s learned to let go so he can finally move towards the compass leading home—towards his new beginning. A new start.

With Sasuke.

Today, tomorrow, _forever_.

**Author's Note:**

> KUDOS AND COMMENTS PLEASSEEEE.


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